Dad has been gone now for almost a year and a half. Mom is living at the assisted living facility. The ranch house where they resided for fifty years sits by itself at the end of the road. It’s a lonely existence for a house that used to welcome the comings and goings of three children, their parents, and at least one dog at all times. How many times a day did that old screen door squeak as one of us kids ran outside for who knows what? It might have been to hold the gate while Dad drove the tractor through, or to grab the “white clothes” off the line as Mom had ordered – someone was coming up the lane! Maybe we just wanted to go for a horseback ride, or needed to gather the eggs before it got dark.
Now that house doesn’t even see Tiffany – the mail lady who delivers that route three days a week. There’s no one to deliver to anymore at HC 65, Box 303. The melancholy house at the end of the trail must surely be envious of the good ole days.
This month has been different though. Us three siblings returned and filled the house again with chatter. This time, it is to clean out the belongings that have accumulated over fifty years. Not much had been disposed of in the past. Kitchen Klatter and Workbasket magazines from the 60’s (and even older) were uncovered. Wooden pickup sticks and metal jacks were found in the back corners of cupboards. In a crammed drawer, I found a yellowed postcard of sorts addressed to me from someone visiting Yellowstone Park. It has a small wooden bear attached to it and although I cannot find a date on it, it traveled for three cents. An old view finder as well as Mom’s first cake decorator were both found in their original boxes; each complete with instructions. And so many pictures, pictures, pictures!
We learn things about our siblings and our parents when we are tending to this task. I did not know my father kept a version of a diary for at least the last 11 years of his life. He would write his entries in one of those calendar books he got at a bull sale or as a Christmas give-away gift from the bank. Some of his entries were only one word, such as “blizzard” but then followed the next day with two words – “getting serious.” Then there were days that required more words. August 22, 2006 had the following entry: Bad day, tractor trouble, sink trouble, Taylor’s dog ran over. Doctor’s appointments, important cattle details, and rainfall measurements dotted the pages throughout the books. Dad never learned to keep records on the computer, but as we found out – he did keep records.
Even though the task of cleaning out your parent’s home can be an exhausting and daunting experience, blessings are found along the way. The biggest blessing is yet to come. That lonely house at the end of the road is soon to be filled again with little footsteps and eager voices as my niece and her family move in. Tiffany will again be seen delivering the mail to HC 65, Box 303. The green stucco house will no longer have a need to be envious of the good ole days.
